


It’s The End Of The World Every Day Of The Week

by In_Much_Stress



Series: Just A Random Playlist [28]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Bucky Barnes, Pre-Relationship, Slightly Not Steve Friendly (very slightly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Much_Stress/pseuds/In_Much_Stress
Summary: Prompt: If you love me, why did you leave me?For @welovetonystark on Tumblr
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: Just A Random Playlist [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639864
Comments: 10
Kudos: 144





	It’s The End Of The World Every Day Of The Week

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Purple_ducky00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purple_ducky00/gifts).



> Refrão de Bolero by Engenheiros do Hawaii

It ends when James—not  _ Bucky,  _ not the  _ Asset— _ decides that Tony is  _ too much.  _

That  _ James _ is  _ too little. _

Too little in comparison to the brilliant star that is Anthony Edward Stark. Tony is  _ the Future,  _ Tony is big and all encompassing, Tony is kind, Tony is generous, Tony is clever, Tony is funny, Tony is fierce, Tony is stubborn, Tony is  _ loving and resplendent. _

_ Tony is everything James can’t have. _

James shouldn’t want Tony. He doesn’t deserve everything that Tony is. He should just content himself in a tentative friendship, it should be more than enough for  _ him,  _ a brainwashed assassin, the Fist of Hydra, the Winter Soldier, Howard and Maria Stark’s murderer.

His hands, hands that once held his family close and helped his friends, tarnished by blood he’ll never be able to clean off—and he tries, sometimes until his flesh one is raw and red—, are not worthy of touching Tony, not the hands that orphaned the genius. His arms, muscles gained through numerous fights from Before and After, are not good enough to hold Tony. His lips, once sweet on the ladies and few fellas he’d charm as Bucky, now are too bitter and poisonous to kiss Tony. James is a being made of winter, sculpted with ice and steel.

James is not a man worthy of Tony Stark.

He had been, once. Bucky had been a man worthy of Tony Stark. Good heart, loyal,  _ pure.  _ Untouched by the worst the world can provide, dreaming of ending that stupid war and going back to his family, maybe settling down and living his life peacefully in some job that involved mechanics, with a house that looked much like the others in a neighborhood that looked much like the others. James knows all that from what people around him—mostly Steve—had told him, and his own faded memories.

But he is not Bucky Barnes. He has his face, his voice, his body, some of his memories, but he is not  _ him,  _ much to Steve’s disappointment, who still holds the hope that James will suddenly snap back into being the guy he knew over seventy years ago.

Steve tried so hard to get at least  _ one _ of the people he loved, clinging to the past so fiercely, he never stopped to think that the man he would find might not be the one he knew. And while he tries his best to be there for his friend, it’s clear  _ who _ Steve really wants. It made James immensely uncomfortable in the beginning, when he barely was  _ a person,  _ to have someone look at him with so many expectations that he simply could not meet. Now it mostly just annoys him, but he appreciates that the blonde is trying.

_ “I don’t know if I feel bitter or vindicated.”  _ Tony had commented when James brought it up.  _ “Rogers turned his back to the world to get Bucky, but  _ Bucky _ is not who he gets. Poetic.” _

_ “You don’t.” _ James had answered, fiddling with the ball he has been using to play with Dum-E  _ “Expect me to be Bucky, that is.” _

_ “I know a thing or two about being kidnapped and tortured. I of all people should know you can’t leave a situation like that without something changing.”  _ Tony smiled at him, a broken thing that pulled on James’ heartstrings.  _ “I just figured you’d have it worse. ’Sides, I like you just fine.” _

Tony had then cracked a joke that flew over James’ head because he had been too distracted playing that last sentence on repeat.

Tony then proceeded to crack the walls of cold around the super soldier’s heart and make himself a home there, one smile and nickname at a time. Big things that mean a lot and little things that mean much  _ more, _ that’s the language of Tony’s love, and the former assassin couldn’t help but learn it. Hydra had made sure the Soldier would always learn any language needed for missions, and Hydra would have combusted if it knew its ex-weapon used that skill to get closer to their most dangerous enemy.

It is hard not to fall for Anthony Edward Stark, and that’s exactly what James Buchanan Barnes does.

Exactly what he shouldn’t do.

It ends when he finally remembers that. When the true nature of his feelings appears to haunt and taunt him.

It ends, he runs away from it.

* * *

It’s hard.

It’s hard to  _ stay away. _

Because if Howard ever taught him something—in between the alcohol fueled beatings and the rage fueled insults—is that if you want something, you go  _ get it.  _ That if you want something, you go get it because  _ no one will get it for you.  _ No, at most they will give you a broken version of what you asked. Most likely, they will take it for themselves or simply not get it.

But James is not an it.

James is very much a man. One Tony helped into freedom, a freedom Tony will never take away. One Tony will never lift a finger to harm.

So he keeps quiet when James reels back in the middle of their conversation. He accepts when James avoids his presence. He keeps his distance when there’s no way James can avoid him.

The genius knows that eventually he will end alone, that everyone will leave, it’s only a matter of time—another of Howard’s teachings that the Universe delighted in proving useful—and James is not different. James has all the reasons to go away.

So Tony stays away.

Lets go.

He does like to see things through the end, anyways.

* * *

James is near the end of his rope.

No matter where one may go in this world, you can’t simply escape Tony Stark. The genius is  _ everywhere. _ So it really doesn’t surprise James that he sees the man even in a remote town in some cold country.

Doesn’t make it less painful, though.

He had thought, had foolishly hoped, that putting on the full Winter Soldier gear would bring enough of a bitter taste in his mouth for him to finally let go of his affections. He is now once again the Winter Soldier, full on “murder strut”, deadly precision and cutting silence. It certainly works for Steve, who glares at the mask covering half of his friend’s face like it created arms and stuffed an entire lemon in his mouth.

But it doesn’t work for James. The mask, the gear,  _ his gear _ , is more of a statement than anything, an act of making something that was once Hydra’s now James’. The Winter Soldier isn’t Hydra’s anymore, he belongs only to himself. All thanks to a certain fierce genius, who ensured James would forever be his own person. Tony made the gear, Tony made the mask, Tony offered James the title of Winter Soldier, and he had accepted it with pride and vindication running inside his veins. Had preened under the mechanic's appraising eyes, blushed under the mechanic’s gentle touches to “assure everything is in place” and smiled at the sweet warmth of the mechanic’s velvety voice.

The Winter Soldier is now a good memory of Tony Stark.

James wants to go back  _ so much. _ Go back to the engineer, to  _ his  _ engineer, and their days in the workshop, their nights at the rooftop, the random mornings of breakfast cooked together, the rare conversations in vulnerable times. The big gestures—like the arm and the gear—and the small gestures—the softness of the mask’s inside and the hidden blade in the arm’s wrist. The warmth only Tony has, the warmth of a patch of sunshine, the warmth of a kind heart.

He yearns and craves and there is something coiled around his lungs and heart. Something glacial that squeezes a little more every minute he spends just outside Tony’s reach. It squeezes and squeezes and squeezes, a bit more painful each time, a bit more bitter each minute, a bit more cold each squeeze.

He can feel it as he sees Tony’s face appear in one of the TVs being sold nearby, Steve’s voice barely registering inside his mind. Too occupied drinking in the image of the man he adores, the man he  _ loves,  _ sitting all handsome in front of a giant public with his three piece suit and intelligent eyes.

Each word out of his mouth is the start and end of James’ world.

* * *

It is curious, for sure, how much people overestimate the feeling of having someone kneeling at your feet.

Or, perhaps, it depends on who’s kneeling.

James Buchanan Barnes doesn’t look good on the floor. Well, he does, all that power and strength willingly restrained, obediently kneeling in front of Tony would, in any other situation, give Tony a rush of desire running down his spine, taking away his breath and reduced him to a needy beast.

Now it fills him with sour dread.

“Don’t get me wrong, Barnacles, this is very tempting, but can I ask why?”

_ Why are you here?  _ He doesn’t say, be he feels each of those questions engrave themselves in his heart.  _ Why are you kneeling in the middle of the workshop looking like a hot mess? Why did you come back? What do you want? What are you trying to accomplish? _

And ultimately.

“I love you.”

_ “Why did you leave?” _

James takes a sharp breath, and Tony feels his hands tremble in his jeans’ pockets, where he hid them once Friday alerted him of the soldier’s visit.

He knows why, he has always known why. Howard taught him, Stone taught him, Stane taught him, Natashalie taught him, Rogers taught him. Tony Stark is simply  _ too much of a nothing _ for anyone to stay. Eventually, people get what they want, what they need, and they  _ leave,  _ because Tony isn’t  _ it. _ Only a matter of time. He can count in one hand how many went against that expectation.

“If you love me, why did you leave?”

“I don’t deserve you.”

This time, the mechanic is the one to take a sharp breath.

“You’re more, so much more than I should ever wish for. But I love you, I want you, I need you. I shouldn’t, you can have so much better, so much  _ more than me,  _ Tony, but I can’t stay away, I can’t leave,  _ I can’t.” _

James looks up at him for the first time since he entered the workshop, and the mechanic sways where he stands with the force of the feelings the former assassin carries in his eyes. Icy blue filled with  _ adoration, need, love,  _ everything the brunet had long accepted would never be directed at him.

“Please, Tony. I’m not much, but I can be yours. I  _ am _ yours.”

Silence reigns for a few minutes as thoughts run inside Tony’s head. James can probably hear the gears working in his head. There is a man kneeling in the middle of the room and confessing to him.  _ James _ is kneeling in the middle of the room and confessing to  _ Tony.  _ Asking for a  _ chance.  _ Saying that he’s  _ too little  _ for  _ Tony _ . The engineer feels like laughing at the irony. And crying, definitely feels like crying, because he can  _ tell _ it’s not a lie.

He is loved.

“Get off the floor, Ice Scream, looking at you is hurting my knees.”

He says, extending his arms, inviting this new beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](https://thiswriterisaltyasfuck.tumblr.com/)


End file.
